


Night's Long Journey Into Day

by RiddleRedCoats



Series: Bellamort One-Shots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Internal monologues kinda, OOC Voldemort - maybe?, is that a thing?, let's be real, spending the night not talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiddleRedCoats/pseuds/RiddleRedCoats
Summary: Bellatrix can't sleep.Voldemort can't sleep.They somehow meet in the middle





	Night's Long Journey Into Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually harder to write than I thought...  
> I don't think I'm very good with descriptions of moods? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> This is still marzipan-lady-art's fault.

 

**23:30**

Bellatrix woke up with a start, her breath coming out in short bursts, her eyes wide with fear and wet with tears. She takes in steading breaths and raises her hand to her fast beating heart. Once she is sure her breath is under control, Bellatrix rises from her bed, sure that she will never be able to go back to sleep.

She sighed as she rose.

She was alone in the bedroom.

As she had been ever since that disaster at the Department of Mysteries.

 ** _He_** hadn’t been in her bed for the past months. Or rather, she hadn’t been in **_his_** bed for months. It was disconcerting after all those years in Azkaban to find out what she had missed wasn’t the comfort of the mattress or the warmth of the sheets but the presence of a man who loathed to be touched while he slept. 

Terrific.

She had become of those women who could not sleep without their husbands next to them. Or like a child without her teddy bear.

Bellatrix snorted at her thoughts. She didn’t know which comparison was more ridiculous. The Dark Lord as a husband or as a teddy bear.

She made her bed – pulled the sheets to cover her pillows, because really, the bed continued a mess – and went on to don her usual dress – no armor, no corset, just a black, simple cut dress – and retrieve her black notebook from its place on the desk near the window.

She grabbed the notebook and made her way downstairs, wincing when her bare feet touched the tile of the Hall. She steadied on to the kitchen and unwilling to have a sniveling creature to make her tea, she started boiling water on the kettle and settled in until the water was ready.

She opened her notebook but couldn’t concentrate on the page. The nightmare she had weighted heavily on her mind.

First, Draco laying on a pool of his own blood. Narcissa, with her head off her shoulders. Rodolphus trying to scream but his voice had left him long ago. Andromeda’s head bashed in. And then, finally, **_his_** body mangled, left hanging from someplace she could not identify such was her terror at the image.

Normally these nightmares didn’t affect her, but… Draco was in Hogwarts trying to kill one of the most powerful men to ever live, Narcissa was in death eater business now with her husband gone, Rodolphus was in that hellhole again and Andromeda had been asking for someone to bash her head in for about 20 or so years, now.

And of course, the Dark Lord after the failure at the Ministry had shut her out, much to her horror. The last he had done that, he had gone to the Potters and not come back for 14 years. She was terrified that it would happen again, that he’d die, and she somehow wouldn’t know, that he would be taken, that he would…

Before she could unravel anymore, the kettle screeched, signaling that the water was done and boiling. She stood up and added some leaves to the water and in lieu of settling in to spiral out of control again, she prepared the rest of the thing to make her tea.

Once her cup was filled, she left the kitchen of the Manor and made her way to the staircase, and to her lonely room.

 

* * *

 

**00:00**

He found her as she made her way upstairs.

He had been just coming out of the office to take a walk outside in the snowy hills of the Manor and then had run into her going up the stairs

The sight of him had scared her. Not him, not his red eyes, or his tall frame weighted with the thick black cloth of his robes, but the very presence of someone else when she was vulnerable… And wandless. She clutches her notebook tightly in her hand and the cup of tea in the other.

His stare asked the unvoiced question, _what are you doing here?_   

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She had a nightmare, she meant. He knew her well enough by now to know. She only made tea in the middle of the night when a particular vicious nightmare upset her.

He almost makes a joke asking if she wanted him to tuck her in and read her a story. He thought it would be in poor taste, considering their whole relationship. Besides, while she might have laughed in the past, now things were different. Her moods, tastes, and feelings were out of his comprehension, too altered from 14 years of constant abuse, pain and soul-sucking monsters.

“Come.” He calls her and nods towards his office.

She steps off the single step she had climbed and moved into the room he had gestured. It was dark, his altered vision giving him the ability to see better than most. A flick of his wand and the room is alight with six burning candles.

The smell of the wax burning invading her senses and making her wrinkle her nose at the strong scent they gave. Voldemort almost rolled his eyes at the predictable expression on her face.

“Sit.”

“I-…My lord…” Bellatrix stumbles over her words.

“Bella.” His tone broke no question.

She sat down next to him on the couch, not touching him.

He almost frowned at that, but then remembers.

Of course. He had been withholding his touch from her since the Department of Mysteries fiasco. Her punishment, perhaps unorthodox, but it worked for her… For them. He, who was not willing and not comfortable, with the idea of using the _Cruciatus Curse_ on the woman he more-or-less regularly slept with. He did it, yes, when there were people present to witness how he wouldn’t treat her preferably in relation to anyone, but with no one to watch…

Her punishment would be sufficient, he was sure, she had been giving him puppy eyes for about 2 months now.

He then resolves to lift the punishment, but he would not tell her. She, herself would have to test the waters of how much he would allow her to touch him… It would be fun if nothing else.

She sat there, next to him. Uncomfortable, in his presence due to his months' long absence. Shivering, despite the warm cup of tea in her hand.

He, accustomed to the cold, didn’t need the fireplace lit. Bellatrix’ shivering, however, might have compelled him to light the fire.

* * *

 

**01:00 AM**

“The 12th across is ‘Montblanc’.”

The phrase is a bit of a non-sequitur, really. And yet, as Voldemort looked at the Daily Prophet’s unfilled 12th across word of his crossword puzzle, he can’t help but nod as he finds out that it fits.

It fits rather perfectly in fact.

He fills the last word of his puzzle somewhat contentedly.

He hadn’t been expecting to actually finish it. That particular clue was being a headache to figure out, mainly because the answer could only be found on one of those insipid gossip magazines that he didn’t have the time, the energy or the patience to read.    

And he knew that Bellatrix didn’t either.

He allows a smirk to play on his lips. Because her knowing the answer meant that Bellatrix had stood somewhere in this Manor while Narcissa prattled on and on about this or that. It meant that she eventually become frustrated beyond belief at her sister's incessant gossiping. It meant that she, after a certain amount of time, had probably had left mid-conversation, leaving Narcissa with her mouth hanging open.

“I actually let her finish, for once.”  He wasn’t surprised she had answered the accusation he hadn’t actually verbally made. She knew him as well as he knew her, after all. 

“Going soft, Bella?”

“No,” Bellatrix answers with a pout on her face. Voldemort takes a side glance at her, expecting her to elaborate. She sighs, “She wouldn’t tell me where she hid my notebook.”

Voldemort shook his head, amused by the sisterly act. He and Narcissa (and anyone who claimed to know Bellatrix) knew that Bellatrix’ notebook was invaluable to her, she kept it more well-hidden than any of her jewels, rare books or other valuables... Except for her wand. Narcissa managing to snag it was almost a feat unto itself.

Still, Bellatrix had clearly gotten it back. She sat on her end of the couch, now more relaxed with her feet on the couch, her knees drawn near her chest and facing him, with the black notebook charmed to contain endless pages, there in her lap. She was writing something in it, as she often was.

Inside, the notebook was a mess. It was, much like Bellatrix’ thought process, erratic and random, and yet, when everything was strung together it made more sense than anything he’d ever read. The notebook contained an amalgam of information about Order members, thoughts on missions, random bits of magic theory, spells she saw and didn’t recognize, and endless amount of spells that Bellatrix had devised or adapted. Or tried to, anyway.

He had read it once, almost cover to cover of what she had written, early in their apprenticeship years when she had been tiredly spread out across his bed and he couldn’t sleep. Now it must be double, if not triple in size.

He finally folded the newspaper, then added it to the fire, keeping it alight. Nagini slithered towards them and settled in between him and Bella, her head resting on his knee. He stroked her head as the clock behind them turned.

* * *

 

**03:00 AM**

Silent.

It was disconcerting how silent the room became without Bellatrix. The sounds of the room hadn’t changed, there wasn’t a noticeable difference in the volume of the sounds. It was just different.

Bellatrix had left the room a little while ago. While he hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t told him he knew she had gone to make tea. And while he hadn’t been asked, he knew she’d bring him a cup as well.

The room opens, Bellatrix enters the room, a tray behind her levitated by magic. The door then closes behind her.

She approaches him and, inadvertently, touches him in the arm to call him to attention and to give him his tea. Her eyes widen after the realization of what a habitual touch meant now that he was punishing her… She almost opened her mouth to apologize until she looked at him.   

Her panicked stare had amused him to no end.

She knew of course, as soon as she looked in his eyes and saw the amusement there that her punishment was over. Her grey eyes glistened with tears of relief and her shoulders seemed to sag as if a weight had been taken off his shoulder.

She smiled at him but didn’t touch him again. She knew the punishment was over, but they still needed to talk, and tonight wasn’t a night for talking.

She sat back down on her side of the couch, the smile still on her face.

Quiet.

It was blissfully quiet in the room.

After a day of endless meetings, of screaming, of the incompetence, of the sheer stupidity of some people… Being able to be somewhere quiet – not silent, but quiet – was a comfort he didn’t have the luxury of enjoying often.

* * *

 

**04:30 AM**

They had, somehow, moved to chess.

His Queen moving. Her Pawn was taken off the board.

Her Bishop making a move towards his King. His Rook took it.

Then, the trap she had laid reveals itself.

In quick succession, his Queen falls to one of her Pawns, and his King is almost defenseless.

He always hated when his Queen left the board, it was as if the board was suddenly left empty. It made the game infinitely more difficult. It made him want to scream and lash out.

 _Bold._ He thinks. _Very bold. And reckless._

His Knight puts her King in check. She readily sacrifices her Queen, despite her Bishop being able to defend her King as well.

 _Odd._ He thought, as he always did when playing chess with Bella. _How easy she sacrifices her most valuable piece._

Bellatrix was a decent chess player and her playstyle wasn’t hard to figure out. Two moves ahead, always, but she often forgot that single move that could derail her whole plot. She was often random, making it almost impossible to predict her moves, of course, that when that happened she made lots of mistakes that were easily exploited. Still, she was adaptive, and she didn’t have a go-to move when things were dire like most players did.   

Much like she was when she planned a mission.

Reckless, bold and adaptive.

He was still focused on the Pawn that had taken his Queen. He moved his Rook to trail the Pawn, unwilling to give it the chance of becoming a Queen.

Two moved later and then…

 “Checkmate.”

He had been so focused on the Pawn that had taken his Queen, that he had left his King defenseless.

He sighed.

With a wave of his wand, he reset the game.

She smiled at him and made the first move. Ah, King’s Gambit… A classic.

He spared her a look, and seeing her black hair almost shining in the golden light that cast intricate shadows on her face, he almost smiled. She seemed relaxed and somehow, despite zero hours of sleep, rested. He then turned his concentration to the board. He had a game to win.   

They continued playing, their hands sometimes casually touching over the pieces. The air around them was charged, after all, it had been a long time since they’d been together, but he had been punishing her (and himself, by extent, really) for the Department of Mysteries. Of course, that the air of competition only made the sensations heighten over the exchanged looks.

And still, the bright light of the orange fire illuminated the room, burning away in the night. The crackling of the burning wood, and the pieces moving across the board filling the silence that had reigned over them all night. They were unconcerned, they had never needed many words, anyhow.

* * *

 

**06:30 AM**

They had stopped playing the game about half-an-hour ago, their scores more or less even, if you added all the other times they had played together… Bellatrix’ calculated recklessness did pay off, most days. 

It was nearly morning, Voldemort could see the peaks of light finally coming through the window.

Bellatrix’ head and shoulder were now resting against the couch, her knees to her chest, her eyes closed, but still awake. She seemed at peace there, in this little corner of the Manor, with the fireplace still roaring in front of them.

He wondered what had kept her awake… What nightmare had crawled to the front of her mind, making her unable to fall asleep… He wondered if he could buy it a drink, after all, whatever it was had given them both a night of peace, even if there had been no sleep.

Nagini was sitting in her lap, her head resting lightly on Bella’s stomach. Bella for her part, petted the giant snake, much to its content.

He himself, with his feet up on the table, enjoyed the warmth coming from the fireplace and the first rays of light coming from the rising sun, peaking behind the clouds.

Silence reigned at that hour, peace stretched on for a little while longer in that office of the Malfoy Manor.

* * *

 

**08:00 AM**

There was a meeting in half-an-hour.

Voldemort rose from his seat.

The fire still roared, keeping the room warm in that early October morning.

“Breakfast?” He asked.

“Of course.”

It was morning as usual in the Malfoy Manor then, the night has finally given away to morning.


End file.
